Veni, vidi, vici

     Rafe Caradec turned slowly and walked back to his horse. Without a word he swung into the saddle. He turned the horse and, sitting tall in the saddle, swept the street with a cold, hard eye that seemed to stare at each man there. Then, as if by his own wish, the black horse turned. Walking slowly, his head held proudly, he carried his rider down the street and out of town.

    Behind him, coolly and without smiles, Bo Marsh and Tex Brisco followed. Like him, they rode slowly, and like him, they rode proudly. Something in their bearing seemed to say, "We were challenged. We came. You see the result."

(from The Trail to Crazy Man, by Louis L'Amour)

The lot of a spider

 He sat up at last and put on his hat. Then he threw the blankets back and got up, pulling on his pants and shaking out his boots. This morning he had collected nothing but a half-grown tarantula, who reared up menacingly. But Canavan was in no mood for trouble, and the big spider wandered away to come again another night. He hadn't been looking for trouble, anyway, just a warm place to sleep. And that big thing, whatever it was, had no right to shake him out of his bed at such an ungodly hour.

(from Where the Long Grass Blows, by Louis L'Amour)

I know that fellow

 The west was not so large a place as many seemed to believe. The country was enormous, but the populations was not, and the men who rode the wild country knew each other, at least by hearsay. Among the gun-packing fraternity - those who lived by the gun either on the side of the law or against it - all knew each other by name and reputation. At every camp fire there was discussion of their respective abilities.

(from Where the Long Grass Blows, by Louis L'Amour)